


Inevitable moments

by El_Loopy



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Friendship/Love, M/M, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Pre-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21575461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/El_Loopy/pseuds/El_Loopy
Summary: "The end of the world was coming after all, but it stood to reason that there were still a few more moments of inevitability left to squeeze in before they were all swallowed up by the sheet vastness of the final inevitable moment."Aziraphale receives a late night phone call from his demon who wants some company.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Inevitable moments

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Good Omens and loved it. I made other people watch it. I read the book. I churned out story after story onto paper and when the writing frenzy ended I sat back and read other people's stories. I have finally decided it's about time I put one of my own out there, so here I go, dipping my toe into the Good Omens fandom...

The ringing of the phone was less of a surprise and more of an inevitability. The end of the world was coming after all, but it stood to reason that there were still a few more moments of inevitability left to squeeze in before they were all swallowed up by the sheet vastness of the final inevitable moment. If it couldn’t be stopped of course.  
Aziraphale was all for delaying the inevitable, particularly when that meant no more getting drunk on fine wines, no more little cakes with frosting, no more rare books with covers that smelt like belonging, and the prospect of the sound of music on an infinite loop for all eternity.  
He watched the phone ring from his favourite chair in the shop with thin lipped caution, wondering if he should delay this inevitable moment too, because it was bound to be Crowley on the phone. Only Crowley called at this hour. Only Crowley kept the phone ringing indefinitely until somebody picked it up. Aziraphale didn’t know if he did this on principle whether the Angel was there or not, or whether he could simply sense that he was being ignored.  
Aziraphale placed his book to one side with an exhaled sigh that communicated every shade of feeling in a way words couldn’t and picked up the phone.  
“Hello.” Yes, that sounded suitably polite for the hour.  
“Angel!” The exclamation came to the background thump of bass and clinking of glasses.  
“Crowley. Is everything all right?”  
It was a foolish question really. Everything was most certainly not all right. They were wading their way through the in-between time. Their positions of influence over the Anti-Christ had ended and now they had to wait out the tick of time until his eleventh birthday. They had very different ideas about what waiting looked like.  
“As all right as it can be, given, you know, everything.”  
Aziraphale wanted to ask why the demon was calling when everything wasn’t falling apart any more than usual, but he had an inkling that he might know the answer and the demon would never admit to it. Six thousand years and their runs ins together had become increasingly more frequent. The time between each occurrence shortening in a converging sequence, tending towards some limit as time tended towards infinity; much like that joke about mathematicians ordering pints(1). He wondered if Crowley felt it too, the tug that too much time had passed between them. He supposed humans expressed this in the few simple words of “I miss you.”  
Aziraphale did not think much more on how that sequence would end as time tended to infinity. There was very little point when time was to be curtailed so abruptly and they were to be separated for all eternity. If he had followed the sequence to its conclusion, he might have some feelings on the inevitability of the time lapses becoming so short as to actually imply that the angel and demon would never be apart. Whilst we might be incredulous as to Aziraphale’s ignorance of this pattern, he is nonetheless stubbornly keeping his feelings to himself on the matter.  
Unable to ask what he really wanted to; the angel went down the route of light chastising.  
“You really do need to stop calling at such un-God…late hours, my dear. I could have been asleep.”  
“Nah,” came the confident, slightly drunken drawl. “You don’t sleep. You never sleep.”  
The easy, presumptuous tone left the angel in the slightly torn position of irritated at the interruption yet gratified that Crowley knew him so well. Followed very swiftly by concern at how he’d let a demon get to know him so well. He hadn’t let thoughts like that bother him for centuries but the prospect of having to return upstairs and give his full report of the last few millennia was making his stomach churn uncomfortably.  
“I was reading.” The slightly distressed emphasis at being interrupted was beyond his powers of disguise. His book glowered in neglect from its position across the room.  
“The end of the world is coming. Aren’t there more interesting things to be doing than reading?”  
That hurt, in a stinging, grazed kind of way. Like he’d put his hand out and not expected the rough scrap against his palm.  
“You’re right, I’m sure.” His gaze fell again on his book guiltily.  
“Angel, I didn’t mean…” Crowley’s tone was contrite but Aziraphale hurriedly cut him off.  
“No, no, you’re right…it’s just, it’s a first edition ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four’ and obviously I can’t take it with me…” He couldn’t help the injured wistfulness. “All those beautiful books destroyed. Gone eternally.”  
Crowley was very quiet at the end of the line, just the background thunk of music.  
“No,” he said eventually. “That wasn’t what…I didn’t…” he stalled, and the angel felt his heart lift a little. It was as good as an apology and the corners of his mouth curled in a smile. There was a huff of breath on the line as the demon gathered himself.  
“What I was going to say was…”  
This time he was cut off by the smashing of a glass, an angry yell and a scuffle.  
“Crowley?”  
A bit more scuffling and the demon’s voice returned, a shade out of breath.  
“Bar fight.”  
Aziraphale raised his eyebrows, “Your doing I presume?” He tried to sound stern. It came out fonder than he intended.  
“Oh, it only takes a nudge in places like this,” Crowley replied off-handedly. Whatever he had been going to say having fallen to the floor and lost amongst the sticky shards of glass.  
Aziraphale had a suspicion brewing over this whole phone call.  
“Are you drunk?”  
“Trying to be,” came the slightly disgruntled reply, before switching to lazy pondering, “forgot stuff happens when I drink in public. So used to you cancelling me out, keeping me in line.”  
Aziraphale gave a resigned exhale.  
“Where are you?”  
“Nuh…” came the indeterminate response. He could almost visualise the demon wrinkling his nose and twisting to examine his surroundings like he wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there.  
“Some bar on the east side. Bit of a dive.” There was a momentary silence. “Liquors not bad. Company could be better.”  
That was apparently all it took. Aziraphale felt his insides warm, his straight-backed posture relax a fraction. His book forgotten.  
“Is that so?” He couldn’t help the slightly pleased lilt that softened his words. A casual observer might also note the way the hand not holding the phone to his ear was flat against the table, his fingers beginning to trace almost imperceptibly across the smooth surface.  
“Yeah,” Crowley’s tone was too casual to be anything other than not. “You could come join me…if you wanted, I mean.”  
A flare of joy lit up Aziraphale’s eyes, lips curling to a smile before abruptly being doused with the cold water of anxiety.  
“I’m not sure if we should.” Crowley had gone silent on the other end of the phone and Aziraphale powered on to fill the awkwardness. “You know. What with the End Times coming, and legions of Hell against the legions of Heaven, and…” He was trying to sound reasonable…in fact, he thought he was being very reasonable, but he could almost feel the hurt in the void of sound, “…and…” he shut his eyes to try and stop seeing Crowley looking at him like that down the phone, “…they might be watching.”  
There was no answer for several seconds.  
“Sure is a whole lot of hate here,” Crowley drawled slowly. “A real hot mess. Hellishly hot.” Aziraphale felt his heart thump faster. “I mean, I might even get a commendation for the work I could put in here tonight.” He could practically see the demon surveying the scene casually over his shoulder, lips in a nonchalant, unimpressed line, glass of spirit in hand. “Unfortunately for these humans there are no forces of light here who could act as a counterbalance...”  
“Crowley…we can’t keep using that excuse.” There was low caution in his voice, he used it to disguise the tingling in his stomach, temptation uncoiling like a snake. He was worried that he wasn’t more worried.  
“Angel…” came the hiss like a caress, “come thwart me.”  
Aziraphale’s breathing stuttered, a heated whisper blowing across his skin, shivering through his blood, because didn’t he just make it sound every shade of sinful.  
“All right, all right, you old serpent,” his voice didn’t even shake, he swept propriety over the top like a mask, “just behave yourself until I get there.”  
There was a thoughtful pause before Crowley replied, “I can’t make any promises,” and hung up.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Not much later they sat at the bar together drinking, normal chaos having resumed on Aziraphale’s entrance (nose wrinkled in distaste at the smell, eyes sweeping warily for any sticky liquids that might land on his jacket, and the words, “My, my, you sure do choose interesting places to drink,” as he perched cautiously on the bar stool. To which the demon had responded, “well before you got here it had become something more akin to a brothel in a western. Some strange desires in the room…”).  
That strange tension the angel had felt over the phone had somewhat dissipated, Crowley was speaking to him perfectly normally, albeit still a little drunkenly, but he’d slowed down the alcohol consumption so the angel could catch up.  
The angel did wonder if he had mistaken the whole thing, because of course it was ridiculous (although, was it really?) and it was entirely inappropriate anyway because he was an angel and Crowley was a demon and the end of the world was coming so why open themselves up to that risk…not that it mattered anyway because he’d imagined it (and he was afraid of the consequences if he hadn’t so best ignore it…)  
“We’re not going to be able to keep doing this much longer, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured dejectedly.  
Crowley made a non-committal noise.  
“We’ll keep doing it for as long as we can angel.”  
A languid silence fell.  
“This is what I meant,” Crowley murmured. Aziraphale tilted his head to look at the demon who was resolutely staring straight ahead through his shades.  
“What is?”  
“On the phone,” he took a sip of his drink, slowly, “About more interesting things to do at the end of the world.” It wasn’t lost amongst the shards of glass. It’d been picked up and dusted down.  
Aziraphale turned in his seat so he was facing the demon.  
“Oh?” His heart was beating faster again, and he slowed it through force of will.  
“I was thinking about this,” he tilted his glass between the two of them, “about…” the word us hovered in the air but sounded like a promise and was swallowed back, “spending time in each other’s company before we become eternally separated.”  
A yawning hollow pit opened in Aziraphale’s stomach, but he filled it with “it’s for the bests and “common good” and “everlasting peace’s” until it felt safely filled. Nonetheless…  
“Then I think you’re right,” the angel replied softly, against his better judgement. “This is more important than reading.”

**Author's Note:**

> (1) An infinite number of mathematicians walk into a bar. The first orders a beer, the second orders half a beer, the third orders a quarter of a beer, and so on. After the seventh order, the bartender pours two beers and says, " Enough of this nonsense — you all work it out."


End file.
